


A Single Bid

by Louffox



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Carlos is a Good Boyfriend, Cecil is Mostly Human, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Ownership, Sheriff's Secret Police, Strex, The Auction, faceless old woman - Freeform, lot 37
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-04 18:27:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louffox/pseuds/Louffox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos rushes to Cecil's side when he hears that Cecil has been sold at an auction. They work on how to fix this. Step one- figure out who bought Cecil. Who has the power to end the bidding with a single bid? Well... yes. That's... this is not a good situation. (Not tagging other characters because I don't want to give it away.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sold Out

**Author's Note:**

> How could I resist, after that episode? It's going to start out angsty, maybe. Later, there will probably be some mature content and fights and epic battles and laws of Night Vale that ensure things go as terribly as possible. I wrote this at 4 AM, okay? What do you want from me?!

When Carlos heard the news (or, more like the ‘editorial’ type kind of report, as it wasn’t so much news as Cecil deviating from the script again) he grabbed his keys and was out the door like a gunshot, the other scientists scattering out of his path knowingly. They all heard Cecil’s broadcast, it was literally impossible not to. Every piece of technology could play it, even the ones without sound capability (the rotovap had played it once, when they’d cleared the room of all cell phones, mp3 players, radios, and speakers, which was one of those times Carlos had just thrown up his hands and chose to let it be rather than attempt to figure out how), enabling everyone to always hear it, no matter where they were.

But the other scientists were clearing out of the way like bowling pins, and the deceitfully cheerful weather played from the unlock remote for his car until he got inside it, then the radio switched on, and he was throwing his car in drive and ripping his goggles off his face while driving. He still had rubber gloves on- he’d probably gotten methylene blue all over his steering wheel, but that was not of import at the moment. Cecil was all that mattered.

He had listened to the show- when he heard Cecil was lot 37, he'd stood as if to go, but dismissed it as another Night Vale thing, that was kind of not good, but would resolve itself in time, regardless of what anyone did about it. Through it, Cecil's tone had worried him- he sounded...uncertain. That only happened when the real bad things were happening- such as the portal in his booth that had eventually led to Strex sending out feelers to their Vale. That wasn't supposed to happen. Or when he found the cassettes, or the shape formerly from Grove Park. But he stayed seated.

Sometimes he overreacted, and Cecil treated him well- he really did- but Carlos wasn't used to being the naive one. He was a scientist, for goodness sake- he had a photographic memory and a Ph.D in biology and several other bachelors and minors. He just was still adjusting. So he forced himself not to react, so he wouldn't have to feel like a fool in front of Cecil, as he so often did.

But when Cecil came back from the weather, that single word- listeners- was spoken in such a tone that Carlos knew the worst had happened.

As he drove, he gripped the wheel tighter as Cecil bemoaned his foolishness and threatened whoever had bought him. With a single bid, to boot? Who could do that? Carlos could name only a few.

He arrived at the station in a cloud of dust and the slight screech of rubber on tar when he pulled into a spot too fast and braked hard, throwing it into park and jumping out. He didn't even have to go inside to find him.

Cecil was standing outside, smoking a thin cigarette. His sclera were veined red and his lower lids were pink rimmed and his hand was shaking as he lifted the cigarette to his lips and the little ember glowed with his inhale. Carlos immediately went over to him, peeling off his gloves as he went, then stopped awkwardly in front of him. Should he hug him? Give him space? Talk about it? Ignore it? Crap, he was no good at this comforting thing… Okay, okay. Just… do something, he told himself.

He swatted the cigarette out of his hand, faintly burning his palm, and Cecil finally looked at him. His face was distraught (he hoped it wasn’t from the loss of the cigarette) as Carlos wrapped his arms around his shoulders and buried his face in his neck.

There was an instant of stillness when Cecil was about as pliant as a concrete column. Not even his tattoos moved. Carlos wondered if he was doing this wrong.

And then there was a choked noise he’d never heard from Cecil before, and his long bony arms were squeezing him back, a warm face pressing into his shoulder.

“H-h-how could t-this hap-p-ppen?” Cecil sobbed, his grip on Carlos edging toward python-like.

“I don’t know, Cariño, but we’ll make this right. On my honor as a scientist,” he added, trying to draw a laugh from him. It didn’t work, but he did draw back and wipe at his eyes with the back of his hand.

“I’m… ugh, I’m just so stupid! How could I forget to bid on myself?!” he exclaimed, shaking his head with frustration, scattering tears. “And I don’t even know who bought me!”

“I’ll track all this down, I promise. We’ll figure it out. For now, let’s get you home.”

“Do I even go home? I mean, someone owns me! Do I have to be collected or something?”

“Well, they’ll have to come get you if they want you. Whoever ‘they’ happen to be,” Carlos said reasonably. It wasn’t cold, but he took off his lab coat and wrapped it around Cecil’s shoulders. He snuggled in and gave Carlos a weak smile and kissed the top of his head.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to have a meltdown like this. I’ll be fine, I’m just… When Daniel tried to shut down my broadcast and there was the whole thing with Earl’s trick, I was ready for anything. And it all blew over, and I just wasn’t expecting this. I wasn’t ready this time.”

“We’ve got to be ready all the time now,” Carlos said sadly. Night Vale wasn’t perfect- half the time, it was a terror, it was an absolute nightmare, but he’d grown to love it. It was… there was something almost endearing about the horrors. It was all wrong, but it was so wrong it was right. It was Night Vale. And Strex was wrong too, but in a different way. It was a sour kind of wrong that left Carlos with a deep-seated fear, rather than the adrenaline-excitement kind of fear Night Vale had.

He intuitively knew this was Strex’s fault. Though there was no real evidence, everything about the situation left that same sourness in his mouth that he associated with Strex.

He bundled Cecil into the passenger seat and drove them back to Cecil’s apartment, where he’d sort of moved in. The little flat above the lab had never felt as much like home as Cecil’s apartment did. He settled Cecil onto the couch and made some tea (when he turned around, he found the Faceless Old Woman had helpfully made what looked like Cecil’s favorite kind of sandwiches- coconut, strawberries, peanut butter, and fig preserves) and gathered his laptop as well, bringing everything over to the couch.

“You’re going to eat and relax,” Carlos said, tossing him the remote for the TV and opening his laptop, “And I’m going to see if I can find anything about who bought you.”

“How long do you think I have before they come to collect?” Cecil mused dejectedly, plucking at the crust of the gluten-free bread.

“I don’t know. I’m just trying to figure out who could have bought you with one bid. The Sheriff’s Secret Police was running the whole thing, so it could be… I don’t know, the Sheriff? He could do that. Who else?”

“Marcus could, he’s got the money. Um… The Glow Cloud, maybe? It’s got the capability to overrule any other bidders through mind control and emotional manipulation. But the Sheriff arriving himself would’ve caused a ruckus, and same with The Glow Cloud. It was all very… subtle. Underhanded.”

“Alright, who do we know that’s underhanded?” Carlos asked, typing in his laptop. “Do you know how to access security footage from the Sheriff’s Secret Police?”

“Yeah, pass it here. It’s kind of my job to know what’s going on all the time… Not to sound immodest, but I’m very good at what I do- this one time, I don’t know what’s going on, ugh… here, this is all the footage from all of today,” Cecil said, passing the laptop back. Carlos’s mouse was upside-down and the corners of his screen was full of broken pixels, but it seemed Cecil had found the right thing. He typed in a few commands to search for the right footage.

“It’ll be fine, Cecil- the whole town is on your side. We all love you, we won’t let anything happen… here! This is it,” Carlos said, finding the footage and opening it.


	2. Meet the Abominations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It should be noted that my headcanon for Cecil is that he has a human shape and an eldritch shape, as many people do. His eldritch shape is his human shape, plus his skin is a dusty gray, covered in eyes of all shapes and sizes and iris colors and pupil shapes. He has countless tentacles (sans the suckers) that can split into snaggletoothed mouths at the ends. I only describe it briefly here.

“It’ll be fine, Cecil- the whole town is on your side. We all love you, we won’t let anything happen… here! This is it,” Carlos said, finding the footage and opening it.

It started out blurry for a moment before buffering. It was an aerial view of the room. Carlos could make out Cecil’s silvery gray hair, near the back of the crowd, frozen and still- so unlike his usual exuberant energy, constant motion and sound.

And up front, the auctioneer called lot 37. There was a small motion at the front of the crowd, the auctioneer ducked to look at something, and the bidding was called to an end.

“That’s _it_!?” Cecil cried. “We can’t even tell who that is! They didn’t even _say_ anything!”

“Hold on, I’ll zoom in and replay it. I’m not sure if I’m worried or impressed that the Secret Police have such good resolution on their cameras… here,” Carlos, said, clicking play again after zooming in on the front of the crowd where the exchange had happened. The person hadn’t even raised a paddle or anything.

There, the auctioneer calling 37, and the person stepped forward- Carlos slowed the footage, and his brow furrowed. He knew that person, he _knew_ he did… something was familiar about him, but at the same time, so unerringly alien that the hair on the back of his neck prickled and goosebumps spread over his arms.

They stepped forward and held something up. It was his hand, outstretched, the back of it presented to the auctioneer. Carlos felt like he was moving through water as he paused it and zoomed on the back of the hand…

There, on the man’s middle finger, was a heavy golden ring with a bold ‘S’ on it.

Carlos’s hands were shaking and he folded them in his lap as Cecil leaned over and panned over to the person’s face. The angle was terrible and there was a glare on the man’s glasses, but oh sweet god no…

It was… Carlos.

But it wasn’t. That wasn’t… he’d been in his lab all day, he only owned one suit and no yellow ties and it fitted him badly, this one was tailored perfectly. He didn’t wear rings, he didn’t slick his hair back like that, he couldn’t…

“Carlos? _Carlos_ ,” Cecil was saying, and Carlos blankly turned to look at him. He was very conscious of the air passing through his nose. It felt too hot and dry. He felt the laptop picked up from his lap and put on the coffee table, and then Cecil was back, his face close to his, his hands felt hot on Carlos’s cheeks.

“That… that’s not me. I mean, I wasn’t… I don’t even own a yellow tie,” he said. He had a sense that there were better arguments for his defense than what he had in his wardrobe, but they didn’t seem to want to make it to his mouth.

"I know, Carlos, I know. I know it wasn't you," Cecil said soothingly. "I would never let you leave the house with your hair like that."

Carlos blinked at him. A full six seconds later, he realized that was funny and he should have laughed. It was too late by then. "Are there... could there be  _shapeshifters_ in Night Vale? Is that a possibility? Or is someone experimenting with cloning, or could the tape be tampered with? Please tell me this is all an elaborate hoax made to destabilize us. I've already participated in my weekly existential crisis, I don't need any encouragement, or whatever kind of motivation this could be considered as."

"I could tell you that, but I don't believe that and you asked me to never lie to you, on our six month anniversary when I revealed my eldritch shape," Cecil said softly, tilting his head slightly. "But I can tell you that I honestly believe that we'll get through this. It's just another 'Night Vale madness' thing, as you like to say. We'll figure it out."

"But the Night Vale madness has never been so... personal. And I can usually fix it with observation, estimation, formulation, and experimentation. This... this is something out of a Sherlock Holmes book. With a horrific, psychedelic edge," Carlos mused, letting his head fall back against the couch.

"We can go about it the same way. I can hide out so they can't come to collect, and you can do whatever you need to do in order to settle this. I want to help as well, with whatever I can."

A noise echoed through the house, and both of them turned to look at the door. Someone was knocking. It was such a normal noise, four simple knocks of knuckles on wood, that it helped pull Carlos out of the reprieve he’d sunken into.

“I… I’ll get that. I’m fine. I just… I need to stand up,” he said, pushing himself up and walking over to the door.

“ _Carloswaitdon’topenit_ ,” Cecil said suddenly, urgently, but he was already turning the knob, and was hit right in the face with his mirror image. The same, but reversed.

Impeccable black suit. Yellow tie. Black hair, carefully brushed back and tamed in such a way that Carlos had never been able to master- even the touch of gray at his temples looked dignified and mature rather than Carlos’s own slightly crazed scientist hue. Thick, rectangular, wire-framed glasses. A strong nose and jaw and arched, emotive eyebrows. Perfect posture and straight shoulders.

And eyes black as tar, yet somehow reflectionless and matte.

And, yes, there was that ring- he felt it as it struck him square in the jaw, cold and solid and blunt. The blow sent him staggering back, barely keeping his feet. His head snapped back and he could feel it all the way down his spine.

“Carlos.” And it was said formally, as a cold greeting, spoken in his own voice.

“Leave him alone!” Cecil shouted, running over and supporting Carlos, putting himself in front of him and beginning to manifest rapidly. His skin was darkening and leeching of color, fading to a dark ashen color, and eyes were opening all over his skin, tentacles unwrapping from his arms and the mouths at their ends snapping menacingly. “Don’t you dare touch him, you bastard abominati-,”

“Cecil. Shut up,” the not-Carlos said curtly, and Cecil’s voice cut off with a rasp. He looked shocked, putting a hand up to his mouth, now moving silently. “And Cecil, put those away.” Between blinks, Cecil returned to his ‘normal’ human shape- pale and silver-haired and two-eyed.

“What did you do to him?!” Carlos cried, stepping forward and clenching his fists. He’d never seen anything that could get the jump on Cecil like that- even the librarians were no match for him, when enraged. He was the Voice of Night Vale, the embodiment of all that was the little town, trumped in power only by Old Woman Jose and the Glow Cloud. He was probably the only reason Carlos wasn’t dead. Nothing got the better of him, when he was really up in arms. Nothing like this.

“I bought him,” the man replied, drawing a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his knuckles, as if touching Carlos had left his skin dirty and then drew a piece of paper from an inside pocket of his suit jacket. He held it up briefly, and Carlos read the top of it. Lot 37. “He is mine now.”

“Bullshit he is. Get out. The Secret Police will be here in seconds,” Carlos said resolutely.

“I bought them too. Don’t you know how the world works? You purchase something and it is yours to do as you please.”

“It doesn’t work that way with people!”

The not-Carlos abomination cocked a brow, a perfect and fluidly expressive brow that all of Carlos’s friends had always been envious of. “Cecil, put your arms up.”

Cecil’s arms went up, and he gritted his teeth, looking like he was going to cry.

“Cecil, put your arms down. Cecil, touch your nose with your right index finger. Cecil, stand on one foot. Cecil, stand normally.” As he spoke, Carlos’s boyfriend did as he said each time. When he stood normally again, a broken sob escaped him and he reached up to wipe his eyes.

“No, Cecil, hands at your sides,” not-Carlos said cheerfully, and Carlos burned with rage at the simple demeaning gesture of being unable to even wipe your own tears away. “Cecil, tell Carlos that he is wrong, that you belong to me now.”

“You’re wrong. I belong to him now,” Cecil said in his perfect radio voice, strong and free of any fear, though his eyes were wide and terrified.

“It’s okay, Cariño. I’ll get you back. I love you,” Carlos said firmly. His boyfriend needed him to be strong. He couldn’t afford to feel the pain in his jaw, or panic at the situation, or have an existential crisis about the him-not-him standing in the doorway, ordering his Cecil around.

“I lo-,”

“Cecil, shut up,” the abomination Carlos said, and Cecil gaped at him. He wouldn’t even let him tell his boyfriend he loved him.

“I know, Cecil. I know,” Carlos said softly, forcing himself to smile.

“How grotesquely romantic,” the man huffed. “Now, if you two are about done, I’m collecting what’s mine and leaving. Cecil, you are not permitted to ever touch me or harm me in any manner. Cecil, you must ask me permission to do anything. Cecil, follow me,” he said, snapping his fingers contemptuously and turning and leaving. Cecil cast a helpless look over his shoulder as he followed him. The door was left open behind them, and Carlos stood in the empty house as he heard a car engine start and drive away.

Taking Cecil away from him.

 


	3. Calling In the Troops

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's New Years and I'm too keyed up from Ep. 38 to be able to sleep so I'm updating ALL of my fics because carpe diem or something.

He wanted to sit down on the floor, right there, and wrap his hands over his head and gasp and fight to breathe until someone solved everything for him. The thing was, he knew that nobody would solve it. He had to do it himself.

Of course, he could definitely use a bit of help, he thought as he dug out his cell phone and pounded in the number furiously, having to try twice before he got it.

“Hello?”

“Old Woma Jose! I need help,” Carlos said miserably. “Cecil got auctioned off today and it was some guy with a gold Strex signet ring and he just showed the auctioneer that and he got him and we looked up the footage and then he _came over_ , and it was a _me_ but it wasn’t me because I was at the lab, I didn’t think anything was wrong until he got bought in one bid, now Cecil’s gone-,”

“Carlos, honey, slow down,” she replied softly. He took a deep breath and nodded. Communication. Right. “Tell me what happened.”

“Did you hear today’s show?”

“Of course. I always have my evening chamomile while I listen. I heard about the auction. Lot 37.”

“Right. Well… I got Cecil from the station and we looked up the security footage of the auction to figure out who did it. It was… this… man. He just stepped forward and showed the auctioneer his ring, a gold ring with the Strex logo on it, and that was all the bidding. He bought Cecil. And… I don’t know how else to say this. I don’t even know if this is real, I’m probably hallucinating or dreaming, maybe I got too close to the orange cacti again, I don’t know-,”

“Carlos.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s… the man was… me. He looks just like me, hair and gray streaks and teeth and height and expressions. Except, he’s different, he wears a suit and tie and looks professional and business-like, hair pulled back and official looking. He knocked, and I… I opened the door, and he punched me and then started ordering Cecil around. He would say his name, ‘Cecil’, and then an order, and it was like Cecil was just a puppet, he did whatever he said. He told him to stop talking, and it was like Cecil’s voice was gone. He couldn’t even manifest, the guy just ordered him not to and it was like… I’ve never seen someone stop Cecil when he’s really up like that. I mean, tentacles and mouths out one second, and then fully human the next. It was awful. And then he just… left. And took Cecil with him.” His voice broke in the last sentence and he stared at the ceiling light, clenching his fist and gritting his teeth. He didn’t have time to cry, he couldn’t allow himself the luxury when Cecil was god-knows-where with that abomination.

Old Woman Jose was like a surrogate grandmother to Carlos, but so much stronger and knowing than any grandmother he’d ever had. While his real grandmother would have said something along the lines of _oh honey, I’m so sorry, come let me give you a hug_ , Old Woman Jose knew that wasn’t what he needed right now. “The black Erika is the only one left right now, but I’ll send her to look into it right now. Your best chance is to talk to Steve Carlsberg until Erika gets back. He’s always got some theory or other, I know he’s a jerk, but he’s all we’ve got right now. And who knows, he might know something. Don’t go to the Sheriff’s Secret Police- Strex has them on a leash. One more thing- before you go to Steve’s, look through Cecil’s silverware drawer in the kitchen. Find a purple pair of chopsticks and put them in the orchid by the back window. Jam them in the soil like stakes, crossing to make an X.”

“What for?” Carlos asked, baffled.

“Back-up. If you’re going into Strex to get Cecil back, you’ll need her.”

“Who?”

“I can’t quite say, dear. But it’s necessary, trust me. She probably won’t kill you, since our Cecil is so fond of you. And it would be a shame to see the decomposition of such perfect caramel skin. I’ll call you when Erika gets back, now you hustle over to Steve’s. We’re all here for you, Carlos. It’s going to be okay,” she said reassuringly. Lovingly. Carlos managed to smile a little.

“Thanks, Old Woman Jose. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem at all, just make sure to mention to Cecil that he owes me a bowling night when you get him back, okay?”

“Alright. Thanks.”

He found his keys and went to get his lab coat, and with a pang remembered that Cecil had been wearing it when he was taken. His hands trembled for a moment, but he clenched his fists. _He needs it more than I do right now. I’ll get him back. And my lab coat- that’s my best one_.

He did as Jose had instructed with the chopsticks, apologizing to the orchid for invading her personal space, but she whistled forgivingly so he figured she wouldn’t throw them out. And then he was out the door and driving to Steve’s.

Everyone hated Steve, but Carlos didn’t mind him too much. He did tend to agree when Cecil called him a jerk and an idiot and a wasp-brained, slug-tongued, bellyache-inducing mewling carbuncle, but overall, Steve wasn’t that bad. He was just a paranoid stoner, one of the only people in Night Vale who saw things with an outsider’s view. Carlos had actually bonded with him a little when he’d first come into town and had experienced extreme culture shock.

Though, admittedly, he was a little bit weird, Carlos decided as he knocked with the ancient lion knocker crookedly affixed to the apartment door. The door opened an inch.

“Carlos the Scientist. Is that really you?” Steve’s hoarse stoner-like voice rasped.

“Yes, it’s me. It’s urgent.”

“Prove it.”

“Cecil is a screamer for rimming but not for actual sex, and can shatter ceramic but not glass when he screams,” Carlos said bluntly, frustratedly. “Open the door, it’s an emergency.”

Steve blinked owlishly at Carlos’s forward answer, but apparently it was proof enough that he really was Carlos, so he opened it the rest of the way.

“He broke half the vases in my mother’s room when I convinced her to mess around in her room in high school. And my favorite mug once,” Steve grumbled, going to sit at his computer desk and take a long draw off the joint he had resting in the orange ash tray there. Carlos wrinkled his nose- the whole apartment smelled powerfully dank. “I had to check. There’s another you that just came through town.”

“That’s what I’m here to talk about. He took Cecil, he’s the one who bought him at the auction,” Carlos said hurriedly.

“Are you shitting me? Jesus, I thought having that creep in town was bad enough, but he took Cecil?” Steve asked, shocked, his eyes going from sleepy half-mast to wide with surprise. “I mean, as much as I hate Cecil, the town needs it’s Voice. Why didn’t Cecil fight back? I’ve never seen something get the better of him, when he’s really riled up.”

“Apparently, when he bought him, it gave him some kind of mastery over him. Whenever he said Cecil’s name followed by an order, he was forced to do it. He told him to shut up and his voice completely went away, like he’d been muted.”

“Shit. Shit shit shit,” Steve cursed, mashing out the joint and turning to his computer, typing madly.

“I need to know who the guy is and where he’s going.”

“I already know who the guy is, but it’s gonna take a little digging to find exactly where his lair is. Strex is a massive building, and for this kind of B&E, you’re gonna need floorplans.”

“Who is he?” Carlos asked pressingly, burning with the need to know.

“Your double. Desert Bluffs is… well, it’s not a natural town. The whole place is artificial. Centuries ago, Strex Synergists found Night Vale. They were obsessed with it, all the weird stuff that went on. They wanted to experiment with it, research it. Not like you, harmless research, but really invasive stuff. Awful tests. When they tried, the big powers of Night Vale rose up- Old Woman Jose might remember it- the angels, the hooded figures, the Sheriff’s Secret Police, the Voice at that time, even the librarians- though I think they were scribes or something back then. And they beat the hell out of Strex and made it obvious that they weren’t okay with this.

“So Strex stole a bunch of samples from Night Vale on their way out, and tried to recreate it. A test model. It came out all wrong and twisted, and Strex was so buried in it that they, too, got all twisted up. It rotted it, like poison or something. That’s part of why we hate Desert Bluffs so much, and why Strex is so intent on invading. This time, they think they’ll win. Buying NVCR was a good idea, but that didn’t give them complete control. What they needed was Cecil- the Voice of Night Vale is the key. I’ve heard they’ve been messing with their own voice, that creepy Kevin guy, and have been trying to figure out how to reverse the Voice’s effect. The town has a unique connection to it’s Voice. They think that, rather than the Voice telling what’s going on in the town, they can make the Voice control the town. Cecil is connected to everything and everyone here, he receives information. If they could reverse the flow of information-,”

“They could make Cecil send information rather than receive it. Control the town,” Carlos realized, feeling cold and then very hot at the realization. Oh god. This was so much worse than just losing his boyfriend. This was the fate of the town, not just his relationship. “But who is this guy?”

“He’s the head of Strex’s R&D department. He’s your double, in case you didn’t notice. His name is Diego.” The name struck a strange familiarity inside him, alien and yet not. It was an uncomfortable feeling, not entirely unlike deja-vu.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon for Steve- he's a really paranoid stoner, but a really attractive, genius paranoid stoner, which makes Cecil hate him more. Also, they dated once, in case that wasn't obvious. Cecil is a real sucker for looks, especially if the guy is smart AND handsome.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my tumblr- http://fauxfoxfanatics.tumblr.com/ or my other WTNV fics if you'd like. Feel free to chat or whatever.  
> I really like comments and kudos's. If I don't think anyone is reading something, I'll lose interest. Tell me what you think, what you're expecting or not expecting or hoping or whatever! Or just to talk about the episode. I'm a chatty fella.


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